


Regal Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, But like not rlly?, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fluff, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Minho is a bit rude, Only some, Original Character(s), Prince Jisung, Prince Lee Minho | Lee Know, Slow Burn, jisung is sad boi, knight seungmin, maybe too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25586470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Minho had always dreamt that once he took rule it would all be better. No whiny father, no annoying facade and no sleepless nights. That was sadly, the modified version. Rather, when he took rule, there’ll be piles upon piles of documents stacked on top of his desk, his overbearing father will still exist and yes, the image would remain or else all his citizens would riot and he’d sooner end up with a fake smile than an arrow in his heart.In comes bumbling, sweet, country bumpkin, figure Jisung. He’s annoying and so seemingly blunt with the way he speaks; don’t forget, he’s the son of the king they’re allied with. But when Jisung comes so does the storm that follows him and it wrecks all in its path including everything Minho has ever worked for apparently.Minho’s just not sure if he should be angry or glad.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2 am hahah I’m tired, but anyways first fan fiction that I’ve ever written let’s goooo (I definitely did not error check this so there will be a shit ton of mistakes)

Minho is not fazed by the manicured nails or the deep wales of his soon-to-be fiancée that clench deeply into his forearm. It's not foreign he thinks, simply breathing out a sigh and attempts to smile anyway because if he were to show a slight mention of disdain on his face along with his already-furrowed brows he would most likely be sent straight back into solitary. 

It really was only a relationship for the other's benefit and vice-versa, because if she really were as replaceable as a servant in the palace he would do so immediately. There shouldn't have been a need to in the first place but he supposed that she wouldn't even have such an ego if it weren't for her daddy's money. 

It was that very money that even allowed her to sit right next to him with her arms looped around his, her large dress pushing onto his seat and the puffy, obnoxious bun on her hair to bump him in the chin every now and then. 

All noble daughters above the rank of a Count were candidates for the position of the future queen beside him yet he already knew that the lady who sat so eagerly on his left was going to be his fiancée. The whole queen candidate program was just a scam for the public eye and even if the Count's daughter had an alarming rise in votes by the people it wouldn't matter shit because the Count surely didn't send in a healthy sum of money for his daughter's recommendation. 

Camilla Van Duyn: he had given the name a scoff at the listen of it. The infamous Duke's daughter; her snotty way of words and her bratty behaviour just reminiscent of a child who got the wrong birthday present made the words that spoke of her filled with malice. However, a campaign for her has already started of her new revamped look and Minho knew damn well that his father must've been behind it. He had to applaud her PR team for keeping this up though because if he even had to associate with her anymore than he did now he would sob. 

Camilla is extremely apparent with her emotions as she watches the play from their seat. He can see her eyeing up the male actors and she doesn't even attempt to cover her small giggle when she watches the female lead step out on stage, eyes filled with judgement. Her fan is gliding out and she's swaying it back and forth.

Minho tries keep his tongue in check but the loose hairs that tickle his brow while she waves her fan makes it hard for the small crease in his brow to disappear.

"Lady Camilla,"

"What?" She doesn't even glance at him, gaze glued to the stage. 

"Could you—" another swat of the fan, "Please stop?"

Minho tried hard not to swing his leg and kick the chair that she sits upon, tries hard not to lash out and exhales in relief when the wind stops hitting his face.

"Prince Minho," He hears the sound of his father's attendant behind him and he prays that the disdain that he feels does not show on his face. "Lady Camilla."

He bends over to meet Minho's level, the man's gloves feeling smooth on his jaw as he whispers into his ear.

"The Emperor wanted me to remind you about the Han's arrival on Sunday," Minho, who sees Camilla giving them a strange look offers a smile in support. "I do hope that you remember, do you?"

His tone is full of disrespect and Minho knows that he looks down on him; compares him to his father whatnot and if it wasn't for his father in the first place he would've known where he stood and stayed quiet.

"Of course, of course, do not worry about it, I have properly educated myself about them. Please do tell my father that now, will you?" 

He holds himself back from fully imitating the coy words of the words thrown at him but he knows that his message has been interpreted by the papers in the other's hold that ever so slightly crinkle in his grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :))!!
> 
> Second chapter is uploaded!! I never knew that writing a chapter is much work tho and it’s not even that long. Also yes I’m making the divorced couple best friends in here yOu caNt sToP mE
> 
> _____. 
> 
> i still don’t know how to use italics on here since i just copy and paste it from notes so if anyone knows how I’d appreciate it a lot :,)

Minho feels hands everywhere; they swat at his face, brushing down his back and he can feel how their fingernails split the strands in his hair, light and carving on the line that divides the two sides. He’s holding his tongue and yet he grinds his teeth, because he wants to slap them away and send them flying. He just wonders if the feeling of absence on his face would be worth more than the shock on their faces.

The faint sound of a hand on wood make the maids that scurry around him stop and they whip around at the sound, waddling over like baby ducks to their mother, pooling at the entrance.

"I'd like to have a word with his majesty." A muffled voice speaks out from beyond the door and the maids just look around with wide eyes. Minho almost chastises them out loud; must they be so dumb? A few years into the job and you'd think that they would know what to do, but it’s sadly all for naught for they just stand there like dull little dolls until they see his hand waving at them.

"Let him in."

"Your Majesty, it's me." Minho knows already. The door is open and in walks a man; he's bent at 60 degrees, bowing to the maids that look at him and he glances nervously at Minho who stares at his reflection in the mirror.

One of the maids approach, the bowing man and she seems almost annoyed. "I apologize, but we are still not done with preparing the Prince for his dinner with Emperor. If you could just—"

"It's alright Mary." He interrupts the girl's ranting and smiles reassuringly at her. Please, do not ruin this for him.

"But your Highness, the Emperor—"

"𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘺," he pays no mind to the way that her body stiffens when he calls her name and he makes sure to say it extra slow, “a stray hair won't affect the Emperor in the slightest, besides when have you ever let me down?” 

Her head falls down and he can see the slight reddened blush that begins to visualize on her skin, but again, he ignores it. He can see how her lips part again but she closes them back up and soon they’re shuffling out. It’s just Minho and the other now.

"Your Majesty, how have you been?"

"Oh cut the formal speech already, why don't you?" He turns in his chair to face the boy. “They’re already gone."

Although he acts rude, Minho wants to kneel on the ground, and thank the gods for the knight’s beautiful interruption, but he just smiles playfully at the other instead.

"Finally. I absolutely hate seeing you in front of others." The younger is already falling onto Minho's bed, shining, metal armour and all and Minho would have pushed him off if he wasn't used to it. “It’s so weird.”

"𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘮𝘪𝘯," he pouts, does his best to act cute and looks with big eyes with his high, whiny voice, "get off my bed. It’s gross." He hears the knight scoff from his right.

"I wish I can just open the door again and call Mary back. Make her see what a dick you are." Sweaty, gross, Seungmin is burying his face in the soft pillow of Minho, with only the short strands of his brown hair visible and Minho cringes slightly.

"I'd rather you not." He's back to staring in the mirror again, can't miss the way that his eyes fixate on the stray piece of hair that just 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

"You do know you're leading her on right?"

Minho glances at the way Seungmin has switched to playing with the strings that are tied to the end of the canopy that drapes down upon him. "I do."

He watches Seungmin, sees how his face contorts into something alike to a frown.

"I know." He decides to say something before the brunette even makes the decision to open his mouth. It comes out like an exhale. "You don't have to remind me."

Seungmin sighs and just stares at him with those disappointed eyes, before he speaks up again. "So, I heard the Hans were visiting."

"Yeah, it's all over town. Isn’t it obvious?" He responds with a snort but Seungmin isn't offended by the way Minho speaks, if anything he's rather glad that the Prince even decided to speak to him in such a way.

He props his head on his clutched hands and he's staring at Minho again. You would think for the leader of the 1st squadron of knights that he would hold himself in a more noble stance but he's looking at Minho with those expectant eyes. "Surely," he starts slowly, "you’ve probably gotten ahold of the rumours haven’t you?"

"I...” He locks eyes with Seungmin. " I have.”

"And?" You can hear the excitement bouncing off his voice, that damn gossiper.

"They're interesting." He breaks the eye contact and comes back to the black, piece of hair that just wants to defy his command.

"Come on," Seungmin complains. "You can trust me~"

Minho watches the way that Seungmin wiggles on the bed, body spazzing in and out like a worm and the thing is Minho does trust him, but he knows the other would disapprove of his opinions. He's already dealt enough with his scolding, and he’d rather keep his friend.

"Oh yeah, don't you have dinner with your father today?"

"Watch your words Seungmin." The younger just rolls his eyes at the warning tone. "But yeah, I do."

"When?"

"Around eight. You should get going, they should be here soon." Seungmin nods and he’s getting up to go to the door. Minho tries to appear disinterested with the younger departure but he can’t seem but to want to reach out to him.

"Alright, well I’m going to go,” Seungmin's behind the door now and he peeks his head out of the the sliver that remains between the entrance and the door. “Bye bye~”

Minho finally turns from his position in front of the mirror and he hopes that the younger gets his message. "Hey Seungmin?" His voice feels so gentle and soft, but he knows that it can't remain that way.

"Yeah?" Sweet, sweet Seungmin always answers so dutifully and Minho is truly grateful for his friend.

"Watch your tone."

________________

Dinner with his father is always and has always been so very awkward. His father does not glance nor speak to him and the heavy air that filters through the room only breaks when his father speaks up.

"Envoys from the Castellum Kingdom are coming on Sunday.”

“I’ve heard.”

The silence that is so predominant in their conversations take over again and he wishes for the warmth that was oh-so familiar to him a few hours ago.

“You know,” his father clears his throat, wiping the sliver of blood that trails down his lips. “This alliance is incredibly important to us. I’m sure you’re aware of the prince’s arrivals too?”

“Of course, Prince Sang-Hoon—“

“Not just, Prince Sang-Hoon.” His father clicks.

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” Minho apologizes but the sincerity that his words surface up to and the way he actually feels conflict so much but he bites his tongue and corrects himself. “Prince Sang-Hoon and,” with gritted teeth. “Prince Jisung.”

His father looks slyly at him when he clutches his tableware tightly but the bored expression on his face remains intact. “I want you to try to become friends with them.” He’s staring at Minho with his big, sunken eyes now.

Minho knows not to question his father, but he can’t help but feel the itching curiosity that bubbles deep down in him.

“Father, by them, do you mean?”

“Yes Minho, I mean the princes.” His fathers reply was curt and quick to the point and he didn’t know how the old man found it so easy to say.

This was just too much.

“Father, I can’t spend my time entertaining a—“

“Minho.”

He shuts up, clamps his lips together and looks down. He acts like such a big man when Minho knows that he had the exact same thought pattern as himself alike; it hurts him even more to know that no matter how much he tries to set himself apart from his father they are still the same.

“I want you to guide them around town, help them out. After all they will be staying here for a bit.”

Minho wants to scream no, this was not his job yet he so desperately wished it was because he would at least get the choice, the option to do so, but not here, not under the rule of his father, he 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵.

“Understood.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where Minho and Jisung finally meet!! Whoop whoop, yeah this was super hard to write considering how busy I’ve been lately but I’ve tried hard and it’s here now so I hope you enjoy it :)

Camilla is always so clingy. Minho is not sure if it's because the girl has taken a liking to him or if she was just naturally that way but it still does not change the hold of her arms on his. She wasn't in the wrong with the way that her body pressed against his; it was formal, etiquette, but it irked Minho nearly to the edge of his confined pettiness because she just had no personal space whatsoever and was so very over-excessive with her touch.

He didn't know whether to just sigh at the girls gloved hand or tell her why he stood with faintly crossed eyebrows, but the beautiful girl beamed so excitedly and Minho would not want to deal with another temper tantrum from her. It would be a pain if she were to cry; rampant, black tear streaks from watered-down mascara that would _totally_ permeate the light-red dress that she donned and Minho just didn't want to have his father reprimand him again.

He's waiting patiently at the light white of the iron doors that block him from the public, waits for their names to be called and rehearses the quirk of his mouth that he plans to showcase to them. Minho only hopes that he does not look stupid next to the genuine face of Camille.

"Presenting, the Crown Prince and Lady Camilla Van Duyn."

The audible voice that calls out their names, signals him and he tugs lightly at Camille's arm to walk. He's not oblivious to the stares that Camilla and him get, with their half-lidded eyes that look critically at the two of them and it makes sense because Camilla isn't even his fiancée. It's blatant favouritism — he's sure the Count's daughter is aware — but it's natural in their corrupted kingdom he supposed.

Minho feels his feet touch the velvety ground of the soft red carpet that they stand upon and he exchanges a look between his father. The king nods, opens his mouth and Minho’s eyelids have already begun to tilt. "I'd like to welcome you all.."

He drowns out his father as one would do so to their teacher and with near-closed eyes, searches the crowd that looks up at them. He scans their face, wants to see if the small raise of their lips is shown; he supposes he is still curious even though the answer is evident. Rather than a sea of faceless nobles, Minho especially wants to see the two princes.

He has seen Sang-Hoon before, remembers looking through history books to see the older's face staring back at him. He was handsome, Minho thought; his father's feature lingered in his eyes and his lips which Minho had been told always held a smile. He wondered if that was true as he finds himself wondering if the older would even grin at him when they meet.

Jisung however, Minho had never gotten a glimpse of. Not even in the family portrait: it was just Sang-Hoon and his parents — well, also Jisung's dad in other words.

He was not in the records, not in the public, most certainly not with the king, and it was almost like the boy never even existed to begin with.

Although Minho had quickly dismissed when Seungmin asked him about the rumours, he _had_ heard about them in fact. Gossip was something that was always incredibly frequent around him and maybe the small inch of respect that he held for himself was not getting involved with it; it _was_ a kid’s activity he thought, but thought changes with time and when all the adults around you partake in it, what makes the very thing so childish in the first place?

He, of course, did not comment on the rumours, but he did allow himself to listen to the snippets of the conversations from the maids that worked in the west wing where he lived. Rumours are not always plausible — he knows because of his own — but the look that his father gave him when he slid the documents across the table that night and the words that were written so clear as day confirmed for him that it was unquestionable that Han Jisung was not the son of the queen.

It's not unnatural for a king to have a child with someone who was not his wife; after all concubines are a thing, but the blood that Jisung inherits is not even that of a status of a concubine. It's a commoner, a lowly _commoner's_ blood that runs through his veins and in his heart, mixes with his dad's golden yellow and churns it out to a muddy brown and Minho absolutely despises it. So perhaps it's lucky that he does not know the face of the individual who irritates him so much, but it’s only a matter of time before his father will end his speech and go to ship him off to Han Brothers' Island.

“Haah..”

A quiet ragged breath escapes Camilla’s mouth, unseen from their audience as her long black hair shields her open mouth. Minho does not know Camilla that well whatsoever, but the girl that stands beside him has her heart beating so quickly that he can feel it palpitating against his own chest.

Minho can feel Camilla growing more and more anxious the longer they stand up in the front and he is a bit surprised, for he expected someone like her, who so openly enjoys others' attention to be fine. Her eyes skitter frantically from side-to-side and Minho notices the way that they pause especially on her father before she tears her gaze off him and repeats the motions.

He’s not sure what to do — Minho has never been good at comforting, but in an effort to calm her, he tentatively thumbs at her padded fingers from his arm that wraps around her and sends a look of reassurance.

Minho doesn't actually know why she is so jittery, but his comforting works and the waver in her eyes settle down to a stop. He almost finds it cute, how Camille hold on to his finger with one while hand until the room that purely sounded of his father's voice, erupts with chattering and Camille peels off him instantaneously to run down the stairs to a group of girls that welcome her with loud cheers.

"Minho," the smile that his father wears so shamelessly in front of others is gone now and he turns his head a bit and whispers quietly to him. "I want you to introduce yourselves to the Hans over there." He nods his head over to a spot where a large crowd sits.

"See them? In the middle?" This time his father is pointing and Minho narrows his eyes slightly to catch ahold of a tall figure that seems to be the centre of attention.

Minho nods, means he’s understood and begins to walk over to the strange cult-like gathering. “I’ll be off then.”

"Minho," the hand that weighs heavily on his shoulder belongs to his father and he looks back to see the old man staring expectantly back at him.

"Yes?" His father most likely knows he’s annoyed.

"Keep an eye on Camilla, will you?" The old man smiles with his perfect, straight teeth and if thoughts could come to reality they would turn crooked already with the lies he manages to spew out.

"I will." He knows what his father truly meant and he does follow his orders, peering with side-eyes as Camilla chatters, while he goes down the stairs to meet the Hans.

When Minho walks down the stairs and onto the floor, he makes sure to bang his tailored shoes extra loud on the floor as he makes his way to them and waits for the group of nobles that surround Sang-Hoon to quickly disperse when they realize of his arrival.

He approaches Sang-Hoon, hopes that the prince did not hear the _click-clack_ of his shoes and smiles.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Prince Sang-Hoon, we're so honoured that you can come here."

Sang-Hoon surely knows who he is, just as he knows who Sang-Hoon is and he greets Minho in the same manner as he did.

"No it's my pleasure." Minho can't help but notice the small, dark brown tuft of hair that sticks out from beyond Sang-Hoon's broad back, "I've been looking forward to meeting you Prince Minho."

"No need to be so formal," Minho laughs with ease and hopes that Sang-goon does not notice the way that his eyes dart back and forth as they try to keep up with the bobbing of the hair behind Sang-Hoon’s back. "Just call me Minho."

'We probably have the same goal anyways.'

Sang-Hoon must have caught on to him, because he side-steps to the left faintly. "Ok Minho." He laughs softly and something in Minho is not sure he likes his name on the tongue of that man.

The older inches slightly bit by bit until a boy is revealed behind his back and Minho stops himself from cooing from the male's baby-like appearance next to Sang-Hoon.

"And who might you be?" He asks and he resists the urge to plant his palms on his knees as he would with a child.

"I-uh," the boy splutters, clearly not prepared for Minho's question. "I'm—

"He's-" Sang-Hoon hurriedly interrupts the boy's jabber and rests an arm on the smaller boy's shoulder pulling him close. "My brother, Jisung."

_Ah._

One moment Jisung is looking up at Minho with those scared eyes and the next, he's staring down at his feet and he just keeps looking back up and down; Minho feels himself growing tired with each lift of the head the younger male does.

Finally he stops and Minho is waiting for a _proper_ introduction only to hear Jisung's feeble little, "H-hello?"

He almost snorts.

Minho hopes to dear god that laughter won't break out on his face because he really is a fool if he expected a _maid's_ son to even know how to introduce themselves properly and he watches earnestly as Sang-Hoon's expression dims for a second.

" _Jisung_." It’s a sharp movement and he sees it behind their backs, Sang-Hoon's tightly twined fingers wrapped around Jisung's wrist; his clean-cut nails nearly breaking skin and you can hear the lowly growl of Sang-Hoon through his gritted teeth that attempt to pull upwards.

The younger prince winces in discomfort, squirming in his grip but Sang-Hoon remains steady and he pulls an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry about my brother, he's a bit..." Sang-Hoon's eyes travel to Jisung and Minho feels the embarrassment that radiates off his gaze, "uneducated."

Jisung's eyebrows twist down and he peeks timidly at Sang-Hoon's face before they slide back into position once the older prince made contact with them. He looked akin to a sad puppy.

"It's alright," Minho feigns ignorance — he does all the time in these types of situations. A talk full of amicability can turn sour in just a few seconds with a slip of words and Minho tries to ease it with his words. "As I said, there's no need to be formal with me."

Sang-Hoon relinquishes his clutch on Jisung and the younger exhales, hands darting to his back where he clutches them.

Sang-Hoon glances one more time at Jisung before he goes back to his usual face like a happy, little sunflower.

"So tomorrow," he has thrown his bait into the lake. "Would you and Jisung like to join me on a tour of Aevitas?”

The question itself feels more directed at Sang-Hoon himself rather than the both of them as he nods in form of acceptance whilst Jisung looks at the other frantically, mouth hanging open. "That sounds great."

Sang-Hoon’s overcoat is pulled down, wrinkles over-bearishly evident. The older prince seems that he is on the verge of rolling his eyes. Minho spots Jisung's hand incessantly tugging at it and he feels a shared sense of annoyance with the other male. Was it so hard to behave for a night? Minho did not know why Jisung who he had just met tonight was acting so rowdy.

Sang-Hoon who grimaces at Jisung puts a hand up in offer of apology. "Sorry Minho, but we have to go now. See you tomorrow?"

Minho nods, mouth drawn in a tight curving line and he watches as they leave. The grip that Sang-Hoon held on Jisung just a few minutes before has returned and just like then, Jisung trembles as he is almost pulled away by the other, but Minho still smiles anyways as they leave and he turns and heads back for Camilla.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wake up."

A hand shoves roughly at his covered shoulder and Minho groans in the wake of his sleep, his head that lays dead on his pillow buries even farther down into the soft feathers. After the night with Sang-Hoon and Jisung, he had found himself straight down in his bed once he got sight of it, not even bothering to take off his clothes. He's tired, sweaty and dirty and the hands that slap his shoulder pads were _not_ helping.

" _I said_ ," Minho's face that has planted itself in his pillow, feels his hair pulled upwards and he lets himself finally open his eyelids. " _Wake up."_

Minho with his eyes, exhausted and bleary attempts to look. "What."

Short, brown hair, clad in black clothing. He would have almost thought it was Mary through his half-lidded eyes had it not been for the hands that tightly wrapped itself in his hair.

"It's 7:50."

"So?" Minho groans, takes Seungmin's fingers that clutch at his head and unlocks them before he drops back to the comforter, rolling over to the side. Sun burns at his face now that he faces the window, golden light casting a glow over him and he huffs through open lips; Seungmin most-likely opened the curtains.

"You have to get up for breakfast." Seungmin's voice sounds from his right, impatient, and Minho can hear the urgent taps of his foot that he does when he's annoyed.

"Mary's supposed to wake me up at 8, now shoo." Minho gestures lazily with flying fingers, waving his hand at Seungmin who stands with his arm crossed and the younger just sighs at the older's stubbornness.

" _Mary_ , is currently out right now, so get your lazy ass off of here." It's only seconds before his new-found peace gets interrupted in the form of a ripped-off blanket and Minho doesn't try to stop the whine that floats out of his mouth as he hurriedly attempts to grab the blanket that flys out of his grasp.

So he sits up and glares at Seungmin with puffy eyes, narrowing them down into a slit whilst the younger just stares back with a smile on his face as he waits for Minho to calm down. Finally Minho stops looking and manages to spit out a, "Why?" not even trying to hide the venom that coats his tone.

"Don't you remember? You're supposed to be guiding the Hans today. Mary's busy helping out with all the other maids for the dinner you'll be having with them. So I volunteered to wake you up." Seungmin sighs at Minho's baffled look and continues, "The carriage should be ready for them at 9, you have to be up by at _least_ 7:20." The brunette notice the small groan that Minho cries out but ignores it. "Then you have to be ready for breakfast at 8:20, and ride to the east wing where the Hans are staying which takes around half an hour."

Minho stares dumbfounded at Seungmin, whose smile which _so_ contrasts the stress that was newly added to his mood, only utters out a quiet, "Get changed." and Minho is scrambling to get out of his bed, knees falling on carpeted ground and he stumbles to get up, hands pressing down to pick himself up.

"Your clothes are on the couch, and your shoes are near the doorway." Seungmin's voice echoes loudly in his half-conscious brain and he frantically runs to the red satin couch that sits in the corner of his room. "Mary says to just brush your hair and smooth it out since it's fine to leave it down."

"Shit." Minho's brain almost sears at the younger's calm demeanour and he screams through hissed words as he struggles to button up the white top with his shaky fingers. "Shit, _shit!_ Why didn't you tell me, or the maids or _someone_ to help me, or—"

"Your dad says it would be fine and to just leave you be." Seungmin answers face reflective of his own relaxed tone, he probably expected this outcome from Minho; damn, no wonder he was acting like this.

Minho slows, "Of course, _he_ , said it'd be fine." Exasperation courses through his voice and he kneels down with short panting breaths as he waits to regain his energy. The old man loved to toy with him after all. If changing his clothes was a challenge to prepare him for the crown consider him set.

With stretched out fingers, he takes the last remaining overcoat that sits on the red couch with bent knees and shrugs it on, exhaling loudly so Seungmin knows _just_ how miserable he is.

"I take it you're upset." Seungmin's armoured hand reaches towards him and Minho latches on so that the younger can hoist him up.

"What do you think?" His voice full of spite, Minho admits he's being rather unfair to Seungmin who kindly decided to wake him up for the day but he would rather beat his head against a wall than go for another round of conversations.

Seungmin neither reacts to the older's hissy fit nor cares to, "C'mon let's go already." The hand that Minho eagerly holds pulls him towards the dining room and he lets the younger tow him away to do as he wishes as he blindly stumbles along to Seungmin's own feet.

Although Seungmin's boots are far louder than Minho, the continuous strain on his hand is apparent enough that he glances back in concern and sighs when he sees the older failing to catch up.

"How much did you sleep?" Seungmin's voice lacks it's usual caution, as they walk boundlessly through the empty hallways. The vicinity remains vacant of servants, presumably because of the banquet Minho assumes and the younger takes no chance to take advantage of it.

"Mm..." His sleep-deprived brain attempts to fuse the words in his brain to his mouth but he just looks at Seungmin with lopsided eyes, previous adrenaline long gone. "6 hours?"

"Well, that's not so bad–"

"Think it was around 2 the previous night." His other sentence comes up in a yawn and he leans his — now — combed hair on Seungmins'chest plate, no care for whether it's dirty or not.

"Minho." Seungmin lifts him back up similarly to one with their doll to face him, his arms now indented by Seungmins hands. "The fuck?"

Weakly, Minho pushes away the younger's hold and continues to trudge towards the dining room. "Work," he bluntly states as Seungmin jogs to catch up, "you know how my father asked me to research 'bout the Hans."

"But still, I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to stay up because of that though." Seungmin mumbles meekly beside him. It's an alright attempt at comforting but Minho doesn't need comforting for the years of endurance he's put up with his father.

"We both know that he wouldn't give a _damn_ whether or not I stayed up." Seungmin's eyes that watch his dragging feet flick up at Minho's sharp tone. He always gets like this when it comes to his father.

Minho stills as the younger who looks down once again and sighs, "Let's go, it's nearly 8:20." He didn't want to deal with the anger that comes with the thought of his father. When Minho wants to skip it, Seungmin complies.

When they get to the entrance of the dining room, Seungmin's back that stands hunched straightens up and the hand that sits comfortingly on his shoulder quickly removes itself to stay by Minho's thigh.

Even beyond the thick wood of door, Minho can hear the sound of metal clinking and scraping against a plate and he hesitates at the door, fingers faltering, brushing past the metal ivory of the handle.

"Minho.. You.." Seungmin's voice that speaks gently beside him overflows with the pity that Minho so rarely receives. It's embarrassing to say the least, makes him feel ashamed like a little boy. So he turns over to the brunette, and weakly smiles. It's only breakfast after all.

_____________

Poor, sleepy, now alone Minho trudges towards the carriage. The spot that Seungmin held beside him was not enough to overpower his already-existing post in the castle.

It wasn't like he was a completely antisocial walnut without Seungmin; he knew at least knew one of the knights accompanying himself.

He knew Christopher — the knight to his right _and_ leader of the 3rd squadron — because he had seen him at the parties that they sometimes held. His older brother was set to take over for the Marquis already so Minho thought it was probable that the Marquis potentially forced Chris to join the knights. After all, if you have another disposable outlet, why not make use of him?

The brunette was only a year older than him so it wasn't the most awkward hanging out and all. They've had their friendly conversations every now and then and with the older being in the castle's currently, Minho could safely say they were acquaintances. 

Minho's not sure if he wants to go past that label seeing as how the knight seemed to pick up a new girl every week or so and it could be damaging to his reputation, but it was also every week or so that his previous girl dumped him and he moved on so it's really a give and take in his opinion.

The squirming boy beside him was named Hyunjin and Minho's surprised he even managed to get ahold of the other's name throughout the chittering of his teeth. He had patted him on the shoulder and thanked him as per usual, but it wasn't enough for Hyunjin apparently, who Minho could see shaking on his left as he climbed the stairs to the carriage.

Although his eyelids weighed down with dreariness, and his skin felt sticky and hot within the confines of his gloves, the ride to the east wing was albeit peaceful. These last few days, especially so, had been hectic with _Han this, Han that_ and for once, Minho could finally have time to just think without the sound of an 'h' blowing down his ear.

With squared nails, he pulls back the window blinds and watches. It's boring, you know, sitting doing nothing for minutes upon minutes and apparently for Minho, the next best thing to do instead is to look at his own property. Lush, green expanse and the stark white of the pillars are always familiar, of course, save for the maids that bustle around from time to time; sometimes there's lots, sometimes there's less than two, and other times there are rogue mercenaries turned assassin to take his father's head – which Minho gladly hopes they succeed.

It had been years since he last had been on this route; the east wing was used for the King's family but it was also a place for esteemed guests on rare occasions such as Sang-Hoon. Minho vaguely remembers standing on the floors of the carriage with tippy toes just to peek up, and every single turn of the car, his body would swerve along and the knight that accompanied would have to hurry to grab him so that he wouldn't topple over like the little child he was. But, he wasn't a child anymore so he doesn't require a knight in his carriage and now, he goes not for the purpose of seeing but the responsibility of it.

One more final turn and Minho would reach the steps of the east wing, so he braces himself, waits for the gentle, last veer of the car because it's always so natural in its ways.

When the door pops open and he steps out with Hyunjin and Chris guiding his sides he's surprised to see only Sang-Hoon standing alone. Yes, the question of the absence of the other smaller boy did arise in his mind, since it was somewhat abnormal considering he invited both of them; well, preferably one of them. Nonetheless, he was still confused.

It was customary in Aevitas, at least, to formally show up when beckoned, but perhaps it's different for the Han Brothers, or may-haps Han Jisung in particular with his silly little conventions and practices — although it could just be the peasant blood for all he knows. 

Minho does not fret nor panic with the missing boy's disappearance as he walks to the older with open arms, his feet meeting open, stone ground. The possibility of Jisung popping up is ever so occurring, and Minho thinks to not ask since Sang-Hoon should explain at one point. Except he doesn't.

"My greetings to the Crown Prince." Sang-Hoon bows slightly, not too much, yet not too little, just enough to show his place.

Minho nods, "As alike to you."

He's not formal like Sang-Hoon. Aevitas is far bigger in comparison to Castellum and although Castellum's long running history was impressive, it still could not rival against Aevitas' dynasty. Even with his telling of not to be formal, Sang-Hoon is in no such position to drop all honourifics and start yelling ' _bro_ ' at him so Minho expects Sang-Hoon should be aware of the difference in their level.

The older male only tightly draws his mouth upon Minho's reply and it's like he knows about his itching curiosity about the disappearance of Jisung, but he keeps his mouth lined until Minho attempts to chat with him.

It's an idle conversation at it should be — Minho suspects that Sang-Hoon is probably as tired as he is — but even beyond the slight exhaustion that radiates off of him, he waits for the running of Jisung's shoes. They've only met once yet Minho felt like he could guess the younger's whole character all at once, but at the same time felt as if this was only one side to the prince. It was intriguing, _he_ , Han Jisung was.

"Well, lets set off now, why don't we?" Sang-Hoon who ends the conversation amidst Minho's pondering, places a hand to steer him to the direction of the car, to which Minho bats an eye at; _he_ was the one who invited them in _his_ kingdom yet he felt like he was being treated as a mere guest to a foreign country.

Nevertheless, this alliance was important and he goes along with the compass that was Sang-Hoon. "Alright."

As they walk closer and closer to the car, even Chan and Hyunjin look equally as confused and the question of the lost boy seems to get all the more tense with every step they take. Should Minho ignore his urge to inquire? Its's impossibly hard to pay a blind eye, but if Sang-Hoon does not mention Jisung this far into the game, then he mustn't want Minho to mention him.

So Minho makes sure to keep the name off his tongue even if he finds his lips pursed out in 'w' every now and then. Because it's just weird: the unsettling naturalness of Jisung's absence and the way the older acted about nonchalantly as if he didn't exist. It chilled Minho down to the core yet intrigued him at the same time.

The door closes after one final gaze from Minho, who looks behind him in one last futile attempt to catch sight of Jisung and he can almost feel the older's strong gaze burning on his back as he settles back down into his seat. _He knows_. Minho knows that he knows that Minho knows about it. It's so evidently obvious but they carry on as if it isn't; it's their pact, their newly formed pact not to talk about the boy and Minho would be damned if he wasn't willing to speak.

"So," Minho begins, hands awkwardly playing on the hinge of the opened window. "Is there anything you're excited about, things you look forward to?"

The bustling and loud cries of the marketplace are far too quiet to Sang-Hoon's ragged breaths. He only looks at Minho once he speaks and answers standardly, "Actually, to be honest," with a grin, "I've heard the pastries here were delicious."

Sang-Hoon clears his throat and leans back in his chair, if it's any better to alleviate the awkward air that came with their previous silence. "I've been waiting to try them since I came to Aevitas."

If Minho could get an award every time he forced the click in the gears of his conversations he would've been a world-class hero, because god damn if he didn't try, this conversation would've been one sided as fuck. "Ah really? I know a place that we can visit."

He inches forward, smile brimming. Take it, take his trap so it's not anymore awkward than this. The possibility for them to link hovered in the air and Minho prays that Sang-Hoon reciprocated so that _maybe_ his father would shut up about it already.

"Really? You know in Castellum.." Sang-Hoon is certainly not dumb, for he too is mindful of what he says. This was not a friendly conversation, yet a an analyzation; to Minho who sits back and listens, to Sang-Hoon who gives. 

It takes one to be deaf not to take note of the rushed whispering even amongst the noisy streets of Aevitas or Sang-Hoon's ramblings which sounds from outside the carriage and the carriage keeps stopping, then starting, then stopping, then starting and then it stops _again_?

Minho tries to ignore the tedious, soft murmurs that arise from behind the wooden of the carriage walls and focuses on Sang-Hoon's words. He's not listening, it's pretty obvious, but he nods his head avidly whenever the older pauses and makes sure to add his extra 'oohs' and 'ahs'.

When Sang-Hoon speaks, his eyes wander here and there, up and down, and out the window before they stop. His mouth that yaps hangs slightly and his eyes that dilate vaguely halt. Seemingly so, Sang-Hoon is so caught up that he does not bother to glance at Minho's reaction, and the raven only stares through long lashes whilst pretending to look at his trimmed cuticles.

Sang-Hoon has yet to notice Minho's prying eyes and the boy waits patiently for a bit. Half of him wants to catch the other off guard but it seems as though not a good decision so he stares at SangHoon with his legs blended and his arms hanging off before the older finally shifts back into place. "Are you alright Sang-Hoon?"

Sang-Hoon's eyes that seem adamant on looking out the window slide back to face him. "Yes, sorry, I'm just a bit strung up at the moment." He laughs softly and if Minho didn't look closely he would've almost thought it was real had it not been for the slight tick in his jaw. "Been so excited you know.."

"Was there something that caught your interest?" He probes at Sang-Hoons anxiousness. Minho would've almost called himself sadist; he felt joy in these type of situations and he didn't know why. He takes his hand that lays on his knee and brings it up to cover the blossoming edges of his mouth, "Why, it looks like you've seen a ghost of some sort."

"Ah, it's, erm—" Sang-Hoon doesn't look caught off gaurd, but there's a slight warble in the way that he begins and Minho greedily leans in, wants to feel the older's desperation to cover up whatever it is he wants gone.

As if almost coincidentally the whispering beyond the car erupts and it stops directly in the middle of the street, followed by a yelp and the doors fly open.

"Y-your majesties." There stands Hyunjin in all his glory, nervousness on full display as he shakily pulls the door wider. His hands quiver from where they paw at the door and he looks down as he rightfully should.

"Hyunjin? What's the meaning of this?" The surprise that drips off his tone is well, naturally, fake. He had already expected the sudden commotion starting from the hushed whispers to Sang-Hoon's head whizzing to the right and he had even dug his hands in the plush seats, ready to launch himself up to fire off at the poor knight who stood at the entrance.

The low whimper coming from the outside makes Sang-Hoon groan quietly and Minho watches the trail of Hyunjin's arm to his hand where it tightly gripped bony wrist shielded by thin, white, — low-quality must he add — fabric that Hyunjin partially grabs.

"I-I uh, I caught Jisung." Hyunjin's voice quavers with every syllable that goes through his chattering mouth and Minho feels like the quite literal adaptation of a face palm. How can so many things be messed up all at once: the strange brother, the little dweeb, and an absolute nutcase of a knight for his help.

Was he caught off guard? Yes, yes he was. The boy had already surprised him and this was just adding up to the list, but years of being in noble society teaches you to not show it. Although he was rather shocked it almost felt, again, surprisingly natural? It was because only the idea of someone as bewildering as Han Jisung was would be ballsy enough to do such a thing.

Unlike his shy demeanour from last time, Jisung growls and thrashes in Hyunjin's hold until he notices the two princes looking down at him before he lowers down his head like usual. Ah, the shy, baby puppy has once again returned.

Was this one of the many sides to Han Jisung? Minho wonders as he watches the other messy brown mop hang down in front of his eyes. He is not sure if he should be angry or not, but he takes his time to calmly look at the younger anyway. His hair is parted up, different from the down do that the other sported last time and his dark strands part to reveal a sweaty mass of tanned forehead.

Minho thinks it's the combined 8 hours of sleep, but Jisung seems to absolutely glow in the sunlight with his tanned skin. His father had always lectured him on the importance of skin protection because it showed off his wealth to the poor who just _had_ to work in the hot, blazing sun, but looking at Jisung now made Minho wonder is he could be as pretty too — it's probably just the lack of sleep.

Perhaps Minho ogled Jisung a little too much because he doesn't even notice the rising of Sang-Hoon from his seat and his burning voice that's just enough to bring back his attention.

" _What do you think you're doing?_ "

Jisung squeaks at Sang-Hoon's low snarl even as he glares down at Hyunjin who now bends down and not Jisung. On the outside, it's as if Sang-Hoon reprimands Hyunjin for assaulting his dear brother, but Jisung almost bows down along with Hyunjin and they look like a pair of Siamese twins.

Sang-Hoon's thighs that remained seated on the couch, gradually begin to begin to rise and Minho glances to to where Hyunjin and Jisung stay. Obviously, he must be the one who mediates these types of situations.

"Your Majesty!" Just from his right he sees Sleeping Beauty Christopher finally take action who runs to the little party and he bows down towards Minho who sits still in the carriage. "I'm deeply sorry about this inconvenience. Hyunjin, he," He pauses in midst of his sudden spat looking at Hyunjin's back before continuing. "He's but a new squire. Everything is rather new for him so Hyunjin may come off as inexperienced. Please spare him from any punishment, or in the very least, let me take some of the load."

Truthfully, Minho hadn't even thought about punishing Hyunjin in the slightest. All his mind could think about was the bizarre reappearance of Jisung right now, but one must keep up their image after all.

"Christopher." Christopher, who had come to defend Hyunjin now mimics the bowing boy and his head lays low. "Raise your head."

Minho was currently improvising, and even though he couldn't care less what treatment was put upon Jisung, it would be a bad look if he were not to so he had to give a punishment.

"Regardless of your pleas Christopher, Hyunjin has still knowingly assaulted a member from the royal family." Christopher's hopeless eyes gaze desperately at him. "Whether or not Hyunjin is punished is not up to me."

The two remain silent. Any more pointless screams would make the situation far worse yet the growing acidity already hung far, far down. Minho knew that they would hate him after this, and he would too. All this slander just for a bastard not part of the royal family.

Even if his blood ran heavy with nerves and his hands itched he still had to sort it out to the best of his ability "Hyunjin," Hyunjin's body thrums to the sound of Minho's voice. "Lift your head."

Minho makes sure to add that sense of delicacy to his voice; it offers solace, puts him on their level and do people love it. Hyunjin's face is wreaked with apprehension and Minho feels that if he did not choose his words carefully it would agitate the younger beyond command.

"Why are you holding the Prince?"

Hyunjin is too afraid to meet Minho's gaze, eyes twitching to his clothed boots and his sweat-wreaked hands.

"I," he begins, "I saw him hanging in the streets, so I thought.."

"He's still a _prince_ , Hyunjin." Minho's thinly met patience nearly snaps, seething voice uncontrollable beyond the masked words that he says. This could cost him much: his hard earned "friendship", his father's trust — no, not just his father, all of the counsellors — and the alliance.

Minho fights hard to not let the press of the frown that wants to imbed itself on his face. It's so hard not to let it get to him, to keep the raise away from his voice.

"Let's just go back now. We can discuss this later." Hyunjin's upheld body breaks and he keels faintly with Christopher's supporting hand on his back. Minho takes one last look at Jisung — the cause of this commotion — and notions to the carriage letting his facade break. "Get on."

The ride back to the east wing is uncomfortable as pre-expected. Jisung sits beside Sang-Hoon, across from Minho and only after a few premeditated seconds of awkward silence does Sang-Hoon immediately break it.

"I deeply apologize about this Minho." Sang-Hoon looks with sympathetic eyes towards him, hands fondling the cuffs of his jacket. His eyes travel towards where Jisung stays, waiting with a planned pause. "Jisung?"

Jisung sits still, mouth shut in a tight line. His legs are pressed and he sways slightly to the edge of the carriage as if he wants to be as far away from the older as possible.

"Jisung." Jisung remains silent and he turns away from Sang-Hoon who watches with big eyes.

"Jisung, please say–"

"M'not." The mumble that drawls out of Jisung's lips does not help decrease the width of Sang-Hoon's eyes.

"What?"

"I said, I'm not so I'm _not gonna say it._ " Jisung's body fully rotates and he crossed his arms like a little child.

Minho only watches the spectacle that takes place in front of him. It's interesting, watching Sang-Hoon struggling to keep his image to Jisung who seems void of one.

Jisung is so liberal, with the way he speaks to his body language. Makes Minho wonder what his education was, how the younger was taught. If by chance, the boy was a mere mistake, was this the result? It's almost enough to annoy him.

"Don't be difficult Jisung." Sang-Hoon is on the tip of the iceberg, Minho can tell with his gripped hands and his face that cranes over to Jisung. His voice is that of a low murmur yet Jisung stills as if a deafening shout was placed in his ear.

"I–" Jisung's strong voice breaks tinily. "I'm sorry." He spits it out as if it's the disgusting pit of the core of the peach.

He's never experienced something alike to this, so when Jisung finally says his half-assed apology, Minho blankly stares for a moment before smiling. "Make sure to tell me about these things then." It's just enough to appear kind but to not let them off.

When they finally meet the pillars of the east wing, Jisung and Sang-Hoon get off bidding their farewells (well more like Sang-Hoon) but the older prince stops right before then.

"Again, my apologies about today Minho. It was now where in my intentions to let this happen, so I hope that you can come to forgive Jisung." His head that appears right beneath Minho's line of vision turns and he scratches his head in a sense of discomfort.

Minho is actually rather glad Jisung had appeared, some nice hours to catch up on sleep, but he still acts his part with his sad tone. "It's fine, things like these happen." They don't. "You should get going."

"Yeah I will. Thank you for everything though." The last of Sang-Hoon's mustered energy goes into his tired words and he leaves alongside the back of Jisung who was already scrambling to his room. "Good bye Minho."

Minho nods and waves. The sight of their turned backs is enough for him to sigh in relief and run a hand through his hair.

Minho wishes that it was the end of this story, but later when he tightens his windows and hops down in his fluffy sheets, all he can think of is the burning memory of Jisung's frail eyes turning back to look at him when they left. It's a bit difficult to get over.


End file.
